Western toad painting by Carl Dennis Buell

Birding and other pleasures and aggravations, in Berkeley and beyond, by Ron Sullivan.

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Whoop! Whoop!

Everybody go look at Lisa’s bobcat

dingbatPosted by Ron Sullivan | 4 comments already...

Oh Damn, Again

Utah Phillips died on Friday.

A bunch of his songs can be heard here.

But first, I’m going to go listen to “Moose Turd Pie” and laugh my ass off in his honor. I recommend everybody do the same.

dingbatPosted by Ron Sullivan | No comments yet...

Good God A’mighty

it’s a topless holy card!

dingbatPosted by Ron Sullivan | 10 comments already...

Well, This Is Novel

I’ve been feeling like vintage crap for more than a week, but put it down to the weather and whatever. I thought I got bitten by something while sitting on somebody’s garden steps in San Francisco on Friday, and just shrugged and slathered cortisone cream on the 2-to-3-inch-square rash on my left lower back. It didn’t go away, but I figured it needed more Tincture of Time, one of my favorite cure-alls. Then I noticed a few more spots a few inches higher, and then some more a few inches left of my navel, and that the skin around those was slightly numb. The rash went from being itchy to being way painful. Everything hurt. All I wanted to do was sleep.

Last night, the penny dropped. I called my doc this morning and she squeezed me into the schedule and said I was right: I have shingles.

What the fuck? What the fuckin’ fuck? Shingles??

Well, at least all those annoyances were from one thing and I’m not actually turning to sludge. Yet. I got a ‘scrip for Valcyclovir and hope I caught the clue early enough. Knowledge is a funny thing, though. Somehow when I had a name for it I expected it all to hurt less (No.) and simultaneously I went for the Vicodin and did, in fact, feel better after taking some. Oh yeah, it’s real pain and therefore should respond to a real painkiller. I have to space doses of that out some, because I still have to drive now and then. And, you know, sit up in a chair and try not to drool in polite company.

By way of consolation: Someone in the Lapsed Catholics Flickr group has scanned and posted some of those awful illustrations from the Baltimore Catechism and they’re a special sort of hilarious. Like snorting nitrous oxide with a liberal splash of mustard gas. 

dingbatPosted by Ron Sullivan | 10 comments already...

The California Supreme Court

is like a stream of bat’s piss: it shines golden when all around is dark.

Struck down the gay-marriage ban today. Prepare for incoming rhetoric bombs. 

dingbatPosted by Ron Sullivan | 14 comments already...

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